turned her thanks to the noble author for both his pieces of stuff.

A volume of his poems was published, anonymously, by Dodsley, in 1739. Lord Orford remarks, that he was one of those men of parts, whose dawn was the brightest moment of a long life." He was first known by a very spirited ode on his conversion from popery; yet he relapsed to the faith which he had abjured. On the circumstance of his re-conversion it is uncharitable to lay much stress against his memory. There have been instances of it in men, whom either church would have been proud to appropriate. But it cannot be denied, that his poem on Faith formed, at a late period of his life, an anti-climax to the first promise of his literary talents; and though he possessed abilities, and turned them to his private account, he rose to no public confidence as a statesman.

SELECT POEMS.

ODE

TO WILLIAM PULTENEY, ESQ.

REMOTE from liberty and truth,
By fortune's crime, my early youth
Drank error's poison'd springs,
Taught by dark creeds and mystic law,
Wrapt up in reverential awe,

I bow'd to priests and kings.

Soon reason dawn'd, with troubled sight
I caught the glimpse of painful light,
Afflicted and afraid,

Too weak it shone to mark my way,
Enough to tempt my steps to stray
Along the dubious shade.

Restless I roam'd, when from afar
Lo, Hooker shines! the friendly star
Sends forth a steady ray.

Thus cheer'd, and eager to pursue,
I mount, till glorious to my view,
Locke spreads the realms of day.

Now warm'd with noble Sidney's page,
I pant with all the patriot's rage;
Now wrapt in Plato's dream,
With More and Harrington around
I tread fair Freedom's magic ground,
And trace the flatt'ring scheme.

But soon the beauteous vision flies;
And hideous spectres now arise,
Corruption's direful train :
The partial judge perverting laws,
The priest forsaking virtue's cause,
And senates slaves to gain.

Vainly the pious artist's toil

Would rear to heaven a mortal pile,
On some immortal plan;
Within a sure, though varying date,
Confin'd, alas! is every state

Of empire and of man.

What though the good, the brave, the wise, With adverse force undaunted rise,

To break the' eternal doom!

Though Cato liv'd, though Tully spoke,
Though Brutus dealt the godlike stroke,
Yet perish'd fated Rome.

To swell some future tyrant's pride,
Good Fleury pours the golden tide
On Gallia's smiling shores;

Once more her fields shall thirst in vain
For wholesome streams of honest gain,
While rapine wastes her stores.

Yet glorious is the great design,
And such, O Pulteney! such is thine,
To prop a nation's frame.

If crush'd beneath the sacred weight,
The ruins of a falling state

Shall tell the patriot's name.

ODE TO MANKIND.

Is there, or do the schoolmen dream?
Is there on earth a pow'r supreme,
The delegate of heav'n,

To whom an uncontrol'd command,
In every realm o'er sea and land,
By special grace is giv'n?

Then say, what signs this god proclaim?
Dwells he amidst the diamond's flame,
A throne his hallow'd shrine ?
The borrow'd pomp, the arm'd array,
Want, fear, and impotence betray;
Strange proofs of pow'r divine!

If service due from human kind,
To men in slothful ease reclin'd,
Can form a sov'reign's claim:
Hail, monarchs' ye, whom heav'n ordains,
Our toils unshar'd, to share our gains,
Ye ideots, blind and lame!

Superior virtue, wisdom, might,
Create and mark the ruler's right,

So reason must conclude:

Then thine it is, to whom belong
The wise, the virtuous, and the strong,
Thrice sacred multitude!

In thee vast All! are these contain❜d, For thee are those, thy parts ordain'd, So nature's systems roll:

The sceptre's thine, if such there be; If none there is, then thou art free, Great monarch! mighty whole !

Let the proud tyrant rest his cause
On faith, prescription, force, or laws,
An host's or senate's voice!
His voice affirms thy stronger due,
Who for the many made the few,
And gave the species choice.

Unsanctified by thy command,
Unown'd by thee, the sceptred hand
The trembling slave may bind.
But loose from nature's moral ties,
The oath by force impos'd belies
The unassenting mind.

Thy will's thy rule, thy good its end;

You punish only to defend

What parent nature gave:

And he who dares her gifts invade,
By nature's oldest law is made
Thy victim or thy slave.

reason founds the just degree
iversal liberty,